Friend/reader Thomas B. alerted me to this paper that describes some of the key chart forms used by cancer researchers.

It strikes me that many of the "new" charts plot granular data at the individual level. This heatmap showing gene expressions show one column per patient:

This so-called swimmer plot shows one bar per patient:

This spider plot shows the progression of individual patients over time. Key events are marked with symbols.

These chart forms are distinguished from other ones that plot aggregated statistics: statistical averages, medians, subgroup averages, and so on.

One obvious limitation of such charts is their lack of scalability. The number of patients, the variability of the metric, and the timing of trends all drive up the amount of messiness.

I am left wondering what Question is being addressed by these plots. If we are concerned about treatment of an individual patient, then showing each line by itself would be clearer. If we are interested in the average trends of patients, then a chart that plots the overall average, or subgroup averages would be more accurate. If the interpretation of the individual's trend requires comparing with similar patients, then showing that individual's line against the subgroup average would be preferred.

When shown these charts of individual lines, readers are tempted to play the statistician - without using appropriate tools! Readers draw aggregate conclusions, performing the aggregation in their heads.

The authors of the paper note: "Spider plots only provide good visual qualitative assessment but do not allow for formal statistical inference." I agree with the second part. The first part is a fallacy - if the visual qualitative assessment is good enough, then no formal inference is necessary! The same argument is often made when people say they don't need advanced analysis because their simple analysis is "directionally accurate". When is something "directionally inaccurate"? How would one know?

Meteoreologists, whom I featured in the previous post, also have their own spider-like chart for hurricanes. They call it a spaghetti map:

Compare this to the "cone of uncertainty" map that was featured in the prior post:

These two charts build upon the same dataset. The cone map, as we discussed, shows the range of probable paths of the storm center, based on all simulations of all acceptable models for projection. The spaghetti map shows selected individual simulations. Each line is the most likely trajectory of the storm center as predicted by a single simulation from a single model.

The problem is that each predictive model type has its own historical accuracy (known as "skill"), and so the lines embody different levels of importance. Further, it's not immediately clear if all possible lines are drawn so any reader making conclusions of, say, the envelope containing x percent of these lines is likely to be fooled. Eyeballing the "cone" that contains x percent of the lines is not trivial either. We tend to naturally drift toward aggregate statistical conclusions without the benefit of appropriate tools.

Plots of individuals should be used to address the specific problem of assessing individuals.

As Hurricane Dorian threatens the southeastern coast of the U.S., forecasters are fretting about the lack of consensus among various predictive models used to predict the storm’s trajectory. The uncertainty of these models, as reflected in graphical displays, has been a controversial issue in the visualization community for some time.

Let’s start by reviewing a visual design that has captured meteorologists in recent years, something known as the cone map.

If asked to explain this map, most of us trace a line through the middle of the cone understood to be the center of the storm, the “cone” as the areas near the storm center that are affected, and the warmer colors (red, orange) as indicating higher levels of impact. [Note: We will design for this type of map circa 2000s.]

The above interpretation is complete, and feasible. Nevertheless, the data used to make the map are forward-looking, not historical. It is still possible to stick to the same interpretation by substituting historical measurement of impact with its projection. As such, the “warmer” regions are projected to suffer worse damage from the storm than the “cooler” regions (yellow).

After I replace the text that was removed from the map (see below), you may notice the color legend, which discloses that the colors on the map encode probabilities, not storm intensity. The text further explains that the chart shows the most probable path of the center of the storm – while the coloring shows the probability that the storm center will reach specific areas.

***

When reading a data graphic, we rarely first look for text about how to read the chart. In the case of the cone map, those who didn’t seek out the instructions may form one of these misunderstandings:

For someone living in the yellow-shaded areas, the map does not say that the impact of the storm is projected to be lighter; it’s that the center of the storm has a lower chance of passing right through. If, however, the storm does pay a visit, the intensity of the winds will reach hurricane grade.

For someone living outside the cone, the map does not say that the storm will definitely bypass you; it’s that the chance of a direct hit is below the threshold needed to show up on the cone map. Thee threshold is set to attain 66% accurate. The actual paths of storms are expected to stay inside the cone two out of three times.

Adding to the confusion, other designers have produced cone maps in which color is encoding projections of wind speeds. Here is the one for Dorian.

This map displays essentially what we thought the first cone map was showing.

One way to differentiate the two maps is to roll time forward, and imagine what the maps should look like after the storm has passed through. In the wind-speed map (shown below right), we will see a cone of damage, with warmer colors indicating regions that experienced stronger winds.

In the storm-center map (below right), we should see a single curve, showing the exact trajectory of the center of the storm. In other words, the cone of uncertainty dissipates over time, just like the storm itself.

After scientists learned that readers were misinterpreting the cone maps, they started to issue warnings, and also re-designed the cone map. The cone map now comes with a black-box health warning right up top. Also, in the storm-center cone map, color is no longer used. The National Hurricane Center even made a youtube pointing out the dos and donts of using the cone map.

***

The conclusion drawn from misreading the cone map isn’t as devastating as it’s made out to be. This is because the two issues are correlated. Since wind speeds are likely to be stronger nearer to the center of the storm, if one lives in a region that has a low chance of being a direct hit, then that region is also likely to experience lower average wind speeds than those nearer to the projected center of the storm’s path.

Alberto Cairo has written often about these maps, and in his upcoming book, How Charts Lie, there is a nice section addressing his work with colleagues at the University of Miami on improving public understanding of these hurricane graphics. I highly recommended Cairo’s book here.

P.S. [9/5/2019] Alberto also put out a post about the hurricane cone map.

Via Alberto Cairo (whose new bookHow Charts Lie can be pre-ordered!), I found the Water Stress data visualization by the Washington Post. (link)

The main interest here is how they visualized the different levels of water stress across the U.S. Water stress is some metric defined by the Water Resources Institute that, to my mind, measures the demand versus supply of water. The higher the water stress, the higher the risk of experiencing droughts.

There are two ways in which the water stress data are shown: the first is a map, and the second is a bubble plot.

This project provides a great setting to compare and contrast these chart forms.

How Data are Coded

In a map, the data are usually coded as colors. Sometimes, additional details can be coded as shades, or moire patterns within the colors. But the map form locks down a number of useful dimensions - including x and y location, size and shape. The outline map reserves all these dimensions, rendering them unavailable to encode data.

By contrast, the bubble plot admits a good number of dimensions. The key ones are the x- and y- location. Then, you can also encode data in the size of the dots, the shape, and the color of the dots.

The map is far superior in displaying spatial correlation. It's visually obvious that the southwestern states experience higher stress levels.

This spatial knowledge is relinquished when using a bubble plot. The designer relies on the knowledge of the U.S. map in the head of the readers. It is possible to code this into one of the available dimensions, e.g. one could make x = U.S. regions, but another variable is sacrificed.

Non-contiguous Spatial Patterns

When spatial patterns are contiguous, the map functions well. Sometimes, spatial patterns are disjoint. In that case, the bubble plot, which de-emphasizes the physcial locations, can be superior. In our example, the vertical axis divides the states into five groups based on their water stress levels. Try figuring out which states are "medium to high" water stress from the map, and you'll see the difference.

In the bubble plot, shifting to finer units causes the number of dots to explode. This clutters up the chart. Besides, while most (we hope) Americans know the 50 states, most of us can't recite counties or precincts. Thus, the designer can't rely on knowledge in our heads. It would be impossible to learn spatial patterns from such a chart.

***

The key, as always, is to nail down your message, then select the right chart form.

A twitter user pointed to the following chart, which shows that Alaska has experienced extreme heat this summer, with the July statewide average temperature shattering the previous record;

This column chart is clear in its primary message: the red column shows that the average temperature this year is quite a bit higher than the next highest temperature, recorded in July 2004. The error bar is useful for statistically-literate people - the uncertainty is (presumably) due to measurement errors. (If a similar error bar is drawn for the July 2004 column, these bars probably overlap a bit.)

The chart violates one of the rules of making column charts - the vertical axis is truncated at 53F, thus the heights or areas of the columns shouldn't be compared. This violation was recently nominated by two dataviz bloggers when asked about "bad charts" (see here).

Now look at the horizontal axis. These are the years of the top 20 temperature records, ordered from highest to lowest. The months are almost always July except for the year 2004 when all three summer months entered the top 20. I find it hard to make sense of these dates when they are jumping around.

In the following version, I plotted the 20 temperatures on a chronological axis. Color is used to divide the 20 data points into four groups. The chart is meant to be read top to bottom.

This article has a nice description of earthquake occurrence in the San Francisco Bay Area. A few quantities are of interest: when the next quake occurs, the size of the quake, the epicenter of the quake, etc. The data graphic included in the article fails the self-sufficiency test: the only way to read this chart is to read out the entire data set - in other words, the graphical details have no utility.

The article points out the clustering of earthquakes. In particular, there is a 68-year "quiet period" between 1911 and 1979, during which no quakes over 6.0 in size occurred. The author appears to have classified quakes into three groups: "Largest" which are those at 6.5 or over; "Smaller but damaging" which are those between 6.0 and 6.5; and those below 6.0 (not shown).

For a more standard and more effective visualization of this dataset, see this post on a related chart (about avian flu outbreaks). The post discusses a bubble chart versus a column chart. I prefer the column chart.

This chart focuses on the timing of rare events. The time between events is not as easy to see.

What if we want to focus on the "quiet years" between earthquakes? Here is a visualization that addresses the question: when will the next one hit us?

Mike A. pointed me to two animated maps made by Caltech researchers published in LiveScience (here).

The first map animation shows the rise and fall of water levels in a part of California over time. It's an impressive feat of stitching together satellite images. Click here to play the video.

The animation grabs your attention. I'm not convinced by the right side of the color scale in which the white comes after the red. I'd want the white in the middle then the yellow and finally the red.

In order to understand this map and the other map in the article, the reader has to bring a lot of domain knowledge. This visualization isn't easy to decipher for a layperson.

Here I put the two animations side by side:

The area being depicted is the same. One map shows "ground deformation" while the other shows "subsidence". Are they the same? What's the connection between the two concepts (if any)? On a further look, one notices that the time window for the two charts differ: the right map is clearly labeled 1995 to 2003 but there is no corresponding label on the left map. To find the time window of the left map, the reader must inspect the little graph on the top right (1996 to 2000).

This means the time window of the left map is a subset of the time window of the right map. The left map shows a sinusoidal curve that moves up and down rhythmically as the ground shifts. How should I interpret the right map? The periodicity is no longer there despite this map illustrating a longer time window. The scale on the right map is twice the magnitude of the left map. Maybe on average the ground level is collapsing? If that were true, shouldn't the sinusoidal curve drift downward over time?

The chart on the top right of the left map is a bit ugly. The year labels are given in decimals e.g. 1997.5. In R, this can be fixed by customizing the axis labels.

I also wonder how this curve is related to the map it accompanies. The curve looks like a model - perfect oscillations of a fixed period and amplitude. But one suppose the amount of fluctuation should vary by location, based on geographical features and human activities.

The author of the article points to both natural and human impacts on the ground level. Humans affect this by water usage and also by management policies dictated by law. It would be very helpful to have a map that sheds light on the causes of the movements.

Scott Klein's team at Propublica published a worthy news application, called "Hell and High Water" (link) I took some time taking in the experience. It's a project that needs room to breathe.

The setting is Houston Texas, and the subject is what happens when the next big hurricane hits the region. The reference point was Hurricane Ike and Galveston in 2008.

This image shows the depth of flooding at the height of the disaster in 2008.

The app takes readers through multiple scenarios. This next image depicts what would happen (according to simulations) if something similar to Ike plus 15 percent stronger winds hits Galveston.

One can also speculate about what might happen if the so-called "Mid Bay" solution is implemented:

This solution is estimated to cost about $3 billion.

***

I am drawn to this project because the designers liberally use some things I praised in my summer talk at the Data Meets Viz conference in Germany.

Here is an example of hover-overs used to annotate text. (My mouse is on the words "Nassau Bay" at the bottom of the paragraph. Much of the Bay would be submerged at the height of this scenario.)

The design has a keen awareness of foreground/background issues. The map uses sparse static labels, indicating the most important landmarks. All other labels are hidden unless the reader hovers over specific words in the text.

I think plotting population density would have been more impactful. With the current set of labels, the perspective is focused on business and institutional impact. I think there is a missed opportunity to highlight the human impact. This can be achieved by coding population density into the map colors. I believe the colors on the map currently represent terrain.

***

This is a successful interactive project. The technical feats are impressive (read more about them here). A lot of research went into the articles; huge amounts of details are included in the maps. A narrative flow was carefully constructed, and the linkage between the text and the graphics is among the best I've seen.

The problems with the visual design are numerous and legendary. The column chart where the heights of the columns are not proportional to the data. The unnecessary 3D effect. The lack of self-sufficiency (link). The distracting gridlines. The confusion of year labels that do not increment from left to right.

The more hidden but more serious issue with this chart is the framing of the question. The main message of the original chart is that the last two years have been the hottest two years in a long time. But it is difficult for readers to know if the differences of less than one degree from the first to the last column are meaningful since we are not shown the variability of the time series.

The green line makes an assertion that 1981 to 2010 represents the "normal". It is unclear why that period is normal and the years from 2011-5 are abnormal. Maybe they are using the word normal in a purely technical way to mean "average." If true, it is better to just say average.

***For this data, I prefer to see the entire time series from 1981 to 2015, which allows readers to judge the variability as well as the trending of the average temperatures. In the following chart, I also label the five years with the highest average temperatures.

The accompanying article is here. The gist of the report is that electric cars are much more popular on the West coast because the fuel efficiency of such cars goes down dramatically in colder climates. (Well, there are political reasons too, also discussed in the article.)

What makes this chart confusing?

Our eyes are drawn to big blue California, and the big number 25,295. The blue block raises three questions: first, how do we interpret that 25,295 number? How big is it? To what should we compare the number? Second, we notice a blending of labels--California is the only label of a state while all other labels are of regions. Third, the number under West is 31,783, even larger than 25,295 although it gets a smaller font size, a black-and-white treatment, and a seemingly small allocation of space.

It takes a little time to figure out the structure of the graphic. That the baseline is a treemap with the regions, and big blue California is a highlight that sits within the West region.

Tufte would not love the "moivremoire" patterns, nor do I. I'd have left the background of the entire right side plain white.

I fail to see why this treemap form is preferred to a simple bar chart.

***

As I play around with the data, basically playing with stacking the data, I found a way to make a more engaging graphic. This new graphic builds off an insight from this data: that the number of electric cars sold in California is more than all other states combined. So here you go:

Since the article attributes the gap in sales to regional temperature, an even better illustration should bring in temperature data.